


Mark of Coffee

by narzibenoucdel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Mark of Cain, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narzibenoucdel/pseuds/narzibenoucdel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is alone in the bunker and Cas visits with new information, only to discover Dean has been burdened with the infamous Mark of Cain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark of Coffee

Dean hadn’t seen him for three days and only the occasional text let him know he was still alive. Something about a case in Milwaukee urged Sam to leave, but Dean wasn’t up for it this time. Claimed he was sick, as if his brother could believe it, though Sam didn’t question much Dean did anymore. He had given up on him, Dean thought. Things hadn’t been the same for quite some time. Something in the both of them had changed.

  
There hadn’t been any signs of Kevin in the bunker since Linda came. Dean knew Kevin wouldn’t leave his mother for just anything, but still, he couldn’t help but feel alone. His thoughts drifted to Cas briefly. He wondered what the angel had been up to recently; probably trying to get Heaven in order and all that crap. Dean might have prayed, but he knew that didn’t do anything.

  
Dean couldn’t figure out what exactly was making him feel out of sorts lately. In place of most emotions, there was an underlying aggression or anger to it, and even his short periods of happiness were tinged with something he couldn’t explain—or ignore.  
A cup of coffee would do right about now, Dean decided. There wasn’t much to do with no one there besides clean, and he wasn’t about to go all housewife on the place.

  
Thanks to Kevin’s translating, there was always coffee, but it had been awhile and Dean hadn’t noticed how little there was actually left. He might have been able to get half a cup out of the small pile in the corner of the can, but it was pretty pointless now. Dean gave up and replaced the cover, moving to return to his room. “Hello, Dean.” He knew the voice, of course, but the squinty eyed d-bag always managed to find a way to startle him.

  
“Jesus, Cas!” Dean expected the flash of irritation, but it didn’t come. Instead he found himself relieved at his presence. “Bartholomew is dead,” Cas said bluntly, his gaze never straying from Dean’s. Dean struggled for something to say, but nothing came to mind. Cas peered quizzically at him and continued despite the lack of response. “There has been some talk among the factions about electing a new leader. Have you come across anything about Metatron?”

  
“No,” Dean began. “Since Kevin… Crowley hasn’t given me jack, either.” Cas seemed confused momentarily. “You’re still hunting Abaddon?”

  
“Uh, yeah.” Dean didn’t dare say anything more. He had been holding off telling Cas about the Mark for some reason. It hadn’t been difficult because they hadn’t seen each other, but now…

  
“Are you well, Dean?” Dean didn’t respond again. Cas was too intuitive about him. He knew if he wasn’t careful, the wrong words would come out. “I’m great.” Dean grinned and slapped Cas on the shoulder for good measure. The angel drew back in pain, which was quickly replaced by an angry realization. “What did you do?”

  
Dean would never get used to the way Cas’ voice changed when he was upset. “What? Nothing!” Dean didn’t know why he tried to shrug it off or cover his tracks. He could offer no excuse for the way Cas had reacted to his touch. Cas’ eyes lingered and Dean’s hand went instinctively to cover the Mark on his right forearm. It was a childish maneuver that angered the angel even more. Dean felt himself lucky that Cas wouldn’t—

  
Face contorted in agony, Cas still took upon himself to grab Dean’s arm and reveal what was hidden. He could recognize it anywhere, this burden given by Cain himself. Dean tore himself from the iron grip and haphazardly rolled his sleeve back over the Mark. The anger and aggression caught up with him, and he didn’t look at Cas for even a moment because he knew he might go too far.

  
“Dean.” Cas’ voice was almost pitying and Dean couldn’t stand it. “The First Blade is the only thing that’s gonna kill Abaddon,” he said, his fury seeping out. “The Mark is doing something to you, Dean.”

  
“I know.” It was the only reasonable explanation for everything. “Then you must be aware of the consequences.” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. Cas called to him again, but instead of anger or pity there was concern for the man and his future. Neither knew for sure what was to come of this, but Dean’s humanity was certainly at stake.  
“Listen, I don’t want to hear any crap from you, Cas.” Cas sighed, but said nothing. The two remained silent for several minutes. Dean expected Cas to poof out and leave him be like he always did, but he only sat down at the kitchen table and stared intently at Dean—or the wall, he could never tell which.

  
Coffee sounded good again, and it didn’t bother Dean that he wouldn’t get much out of the spare grounds. Something was better than nothing, and it might help him calm down in a way few things could. Cas was patient and didn’t say a word. He seemed content with the quiet, and since he was no longer alone, Dean did, too.


End file.
